


Ghosts in the Mansion

by myrskytuuli



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Gen, duckfeels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 00:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrskytuuli/pseuds/myrskytuuli
Summary: Little Webby is convinced that the mansion has a ghost in it. And with no friends to entertain her, she might as well try to find that ghost. And she might not be entirely wrong thinking that Mister. McDuck doesn’t sleep well, because he is being haunted.





	Ghosts in the Mansion

“-You can’t let it haunt you forever-.”

“Nothing’s haunting me!”

Young Webbigail Vanderquak tip-toed away from the door that had been left slightly ajar, feeling just a tiniest amounts of guilt for eavesdropping. But then again, she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, she had been walking the hallways, minding her own business, when she had overheard her grandma and Mister. McDuck. Eavesdropping might have been rude, but overhearing was something that could happen to anyone.

Besides, she couldn’t be blamed for walking past the same door over and over again, it wasn’t like there was anything else for her to do.

Hurrying back to her room, the very young girl jumped on her chair, which rolled over to her bookcase, where the girl snatched a rope and used the momentum to swing herself on top of the sturdy wooden structure. With practiced ease, she reached for the secret notebook taped to the wall behind the bookcase.

Settling down on her spot, on top of the bookcase, she started to leaf through the notebook, eyes critically scanning her previous notes. The big picture was starting to form from the clues that she had been gathering for a long while now.  

The McDuck manor had a ghost in it.

It only made sense. A manor like this had to be haunted, she had never read of an old manor with secret rooms and mysterious artefacts, inhabited by an eccentric old man, of  _not_ being haunted.

And there were clues all over the place. Firstly, there was the fact that Mister McDuck never let anyone visit him in the mansion, expect of course grandma, but Mister. McDuck  _had_ to let her in, because otherwise no one would clean or cook in this place. And If Webby was owner of a mansion like this, she would have invited friends over every day! She would have invited total strangers too, and made them her new friends! It just wasn’t normal to not ever invite anyone in without some reason.

Then there was the fact that sometimes Webby could hear Mister. McDuck wandering the halls, and mutter to someone who was not there. Sometimes he would even stay up the entire night pacing in circle, or the halls, or just staring into nothingness. Webby had done her research, and concluded that it might be a case of possession. Or maybe there was a ghost who was specifically targeting Mister. McDuck, and keeping him up at nights. It might also explain why he was so grumpy during the days. Webby was also grumpy herself if she didn’t get her proper sleep.  

And of course there was the keen knowledge that grandma was trying to keep something secret from Webby. She never answered when Webby asked about Mister. McDuck’s nightly wanderings, or why they never had any visitors in the mansion, or why it sometimes felt like there was something heavy and frightening weighing down the air of the mansion. She only told Webby that she was imagining things, and that what Mister. McDuck did was his own business, and that she shouldn’t bother him too much. But Webby could hear in the tone of her grandmother that not everything was all right. That something was wrong, and that she didn’t want Webby to know about it.

But Webby did know about it, and she had to do something, even if none of the adults were going to do anything. Webby, who had nothing but time in her lonely hands, and an adventurous heart, (and the sneaking hope that maybe if the ghost was banished, people would start coming to the mansion and Webby wouldn’t be so alone all the time.)

Now, after consulting books, it was time to find the actual ghost, which meant that it was time for fieldwork. She had prepared well, watching all the episodes of the ghost-hunters, reading all the books she could find, and by making herself a notebook for guidance.

Two months ago, Webby had found the vents, and consequently that they were just big enough for a young duck-child to crawl through. This had led her to start a mapping project and kept her entertained many long evenings. She might not be able to do any exploration outside the mansion, but at least she could claim the honour of being the expert in exploring the inside of the mansion.

But there were still many spaces and many rooms that she had not visited. Dropping down from the vent into darkened room always brought the same feeling of rush to her. The first glimpse around in a place she had never seen before. The endless possibilities.

Well, mostly the rooms did resemble each other. The same style of furnishing, the same amount of dust gathering in the corners. But there was always something new to be discovered in every room. Maybe it was an old map hanging from the wall. Maybe it was the ancient samurai sword placed on the mantle of the fireplace. Maybe it was the basket of pearls on top of the unused piano.

The room that Webby dropped down into, didn’t at least on the first glance seem to hold any notable treasures in it. But Webby knew that first looks weren’t everything, and that she wasn’t looking for treasures anyway. She was looking for the ghost, and she had deducted that the best place to start would be from the east-wing of the second store, because even Grandma wasn’t allowed to clean in those rooms, and Mister. McDuck himself avoided ever going in there, even if he had to take the longer route to the west-wing stairs if he wanted to go to the third-floor.  

Webby slid her feet on the floor, trying to be as silent as possible, even if she was sure that neither grandma nor Mister. McDuck were anywhere near. The room was only very faintly illuminated by the light of the moon filtering through the dusty window, but what she could see in the dim lighting was that the room had at some point been a bedroom. This room had probably been a guest bedroom at some point, before the dust and the cobwebs had taken over. There were two beds neatly positioned underneath the small window, and empty shelves lining the walls. For a room so impersonal, there was still a whisper of something that suggested that whoever had been the last person to sleep here, had not been the most considerate of guests. There were little marks on the furniture that suggested a rough use once upon a time, and all kind of little holes and scratches on the walls, that were almost familiar to what Webby’s own walls looked after trying out how to make a pen stick from the wall.

Fishing out the small pen-light from her pocket, (She always came prepared), Webby started to peer into the shadows.  

“Hey ghost! If you’re listening, it’s me, Webby Vanderquak. And I’m not afraid of you!”

Webby shivered slightly. Everything around her was perfectly silent.

the shelves were empty, as was the closet. There was nothing but years’ worth of dust underneath the beds, and the writing desk had notches and ink stains in it, but nothing that would tell any interesting stories of the rooms former occupants.

Swallowing back her temptation to crawl back into the vent, and to her own room, she instead peered behind the bookcase on the right-side wall. Expecting nothing more than more cobwebs, she was surprised to see something nestled between the wall and the corner of the bookcase. Stretching her short hand, she managed to hook the end of her finger in the old leathery strap. Pulling the item out, she could identify it as an old and cracked pair of aviator’s goggles.

Excited, she turned the item around in her hands, coughing a bit as the dust flew into her beak. On an impulse, she pulled the item over her head, noticing that the pair was a tad too big for her, and even if the size would have been fit, the lenses were both so dull with dirt that you couldn’t see through. She had to pull the goggles up, but kept them still resting against her forehead, because they were cool.

Getting back up, she let the small pen-light travel on the bare walls. She was already getting disinterested, and started to think about leaving the room, when she noticed something half-hidden behind a table leaning against the wall opposite of the window and the beds.

Creeping closer, she realised that the white, square, shape was actually a painting covered with a sheet. A quick glance on the wall also revealed the hooks already in place to hold the heavy-framed picture. Apparently, the room had been for some reason abandoned before picture had made it to the wall. Or maybe when the room had been emptied from all of its other decorations, the painting had been left behind.

Curiosity peeked, Webby reached for the corner of the white cloth, wanting to see what type of a painting was hiding underneath it, but her moment was disturbed by a loud bang coming from behind her. A high pitched squak escaped her beak and instinctively her hand, still holding the penlight, stabbed forwards.

Jumping around, she saw Mister McDuck standing on the open doorway, an ancient musket on his hands, looking like he was ready to chase a burglar or two away all by himself.

When his eyes settled on Webby, standing in the dusty bedroom, aviator’s goggles hiding half of her face, the weapon dropped from his hands and clattered on to the floor. Webby flinched again at the sudden sound, but otherwise felt relieved. At least she wasn’t about to be shot.

“Mister McDuck…I can explain…?” She tried, not actually knowing how she could explain snooping around in his mansion at this time of the night.

Mister McDuck did not shout, or growl, or do anything that Webby expected of him. He didn’t do anything, expect stare at Webby, or at least stare at where Webby was currently standing.

“So um…”

“So it’s you? You are the girl whose footsteps and voices I hear coming from the east-wing at nights?”

“Well… I guess I kinda do speak to myself from time to time…So, you’re not mad?”

Mister McDuck blinked, and suddenly Webby wished that she had not said anything. A storm cloud settled over Mister. McDuck’s face as he gazed at the little girl in front of him.

“Mad? Of course I’m mad! What in Dismal Down’s do you think that you are doing?! Wandering around at nights, keeping me awake! Going in to places you are not supposed to go!! Destroying my property!”

Mister. McDuck pointed behind Webby, and a quick glimpse back made Webby curl into herself in shame. Her penlight had ripped at the the corner of the painting. The white cloth had pooled on to the ground, around the picture, but Webby no longer had any interest in what the painting was depicting. She was too concentrated on keeping the tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, Mister McDuck.” She whispered, feeling utterly dejected.

“Yes well.” The red coated tsillionare coughed awkwardly. “Just make sure that you stop wandering from now on. I’ll be talking to your grandmother about your behaviour. Besides, there are many dangerous things on these abandoned rooms, you might end up in an accident, if you go off by yourself.”

Webby would have asked if maybe Mister. McDuck could then come with Webby, so it wouldn’t be dangerous, but the cold finality and the very underlying bitterness of the last sentence stilled her tongue. It had been a stupid idea from the start. Mister McDuck wouldn’t want to go of gallivanting with little girls anyway.


End file.
